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"Tyrants and cowards - for metal, you will kneel .." - In My Sword I Trust by Ensiferum
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Post by Ruin on Oct 15, 2015 18:04:40 GMT
Creating alliancesQueen Rhoslyn Arcadia | ♀ | Dragon | Osevale; Arcul
It was a monthly thing in the kingdom; allowing citizens to line up within the throne room of Castle Torridus in order to see the King or Queen - sometimes both if neither had anything else to be doing. Most of the requests made were the same sort of thing. More or larger rations, marriage arrangements, marital disagreements that needed a third party to aid in the sorting out of, to list a couple. Queen Rhoslyn never viewed it as something worth looking forward to. It involved sitting for far too long in the same place, in her opinion.
Sunlight that did little to warm the outside world seeped in through the tall, narrow windows of the throne room, and brightened the pale hall, which was a myriad of greys, whites and light blues. The only bright colours that were visible and contrasted with the interior of the hall itself were the clothing worn by the people within it, and the plush red rug that lead to the royal chairs. These were situated a few steps above the rest of the floor, which gave an air of authority to the person seated upon them.
Seated upon the main throne this very day was a woman who was neither small nor particularly tall, with hair an obsidian-hue and a full set of bangs that framed her ivory face. Her attire consisted of intricate, dark lace and exquisite gold threading. The female's entire appearance screamed royalty, if the seat she was in hadn't conveyed that already.
The line of people approaching the Queen and voicing their concerns or demands was slowly dissipating for the evening, and after dismissing an elderly man who's last sheep had fallen ill and died, she indicated for the next person to come forward. The previous man had asked for more livestock to replace the deceased, which he had been granted as it had not been too great a demand.
Incredibly bored and tired of this monotonous process, Rhoslyn placed her elbow upon the arm of the throne, and her cheek against her fist. She could only hope that somebody of interest would pipe up soon, if at all.
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Post by drest on Oct 15, 2015 23:58:10 GMT
Lord Arden Ritter | ♂ | Human | Arcul Arden had never seen the Queen before he strode through the vast, intricately carven doors of the throne room. She was seated on a high, pale throne, her hair so black that it almost seemed to Arden's keen sight to absorb the light around it. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever lain eyes on – in the back of his mind of course he knew she was no woman, not the way he was a man, and that she had kept this visage for over 400 years now, but she was no less striking for it.
He was the only other noble in the hall, having arrived well into the evening hours, and felt woefully out-of-place in his red silk tunic. Two years old, its silver embroidery was strained by the bulk of his chest and shoulders; he adjusted his far better-kept cloak to try and cover. If nothing else, it did at least mark him as a gentleman, and the remaining peasants parted to leave him a path along the carpet to the throne. Intending to wait his turn, he stood still, but as none of the commoners moved it seemed they must be deferring to him. He found the awkwardness of the scene as constricting as the tunic on his chest. Good start, Lord Ritter, he told himself bitterly.
He took a deep breath, straightened his posture, and stepped forward. When he reached the throne, he bowed low. "Your Majesty," he said as he rose.
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Post by Ruin on Oct 16, 2015 17:38:23 GMT
Rhoslyn's muted blue eyes swept over the long hall as they waited for the next demand-ee to show his or her face. To her surprise, the line of people began to part down the middle, obviously making way for someone. Righting her posture, the queen settled her curious but nonetheless calculating gaze upon the crimson-clad man, whom she guessed had spent his life doing some sort of strenuous physical activity, for his broader build was clearly muscular rather than portly. Knighthood or blacksmithing were the first suggestions to come to her mind.
The man's face did not seem all that familiar to the darkly haired woman, but it was obvious that he was a member of nobility. His attire was certainly a great foil to the clothing of the poorer folk gathered around and behind him.
"Greetings," came her initial reply, before she went on to repeat a line she had already uttered at least a hundred times that very day, "State your name and the business you have here."
There was no hiding the interest or mildly inquisitive tone to the Queen's voice. Nobles were not usually as inclined as the common folk to attend these seeings. Many chose to write to the throne, but there was often a rather large delay when it came to replies, if the matters were not of much importance.
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Post by drest on Oct 16, 2015 20:38:00 GMT
"Your Grace," Arden answered. "I am Arden Ritter, Lord of Oakheart Hall and the easternmost of the Southern march-lords. If you have heard of me, it's more likely to have been what the soldiers call me, 'Witch-Lord.'" He drew in a breath, letting it linger in his chest while he thought.
"A soldier is what I am, Highness. My house has few allies, little land. During war we prosper, but at peace there's little for us and this year is our closest yet to starvation. We're goat-herds and woodsmen, mainly; our neighbors have iron mines, but we were not so blessed. I ask for no handouts, simply work. My line has been loyal to you for many long years – if it means prosperity for my people, I will lead men, kill men, kill beasts, guard gold, any task you find suited to me."
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Post by Ruin on Oct 17, 2015 9:33:48 GMT
Rhoslyn had certainly heard mention of somebody known as the Witch Lord a few times before, and the fact that the bearer of this nickname was before her only spiked her interest. He did not look anything like she would have pictured somebody with such a title would.
Taking his words into consideration, the Queen pondered over his offer for a few silent moments. A personal guard of some sort was something that she had considered seeking out in the past; a person that she could trust to remain completely loyal to herself only, and report any notions made against her. Perhaps this fellow would rise up to that level if she gave him time.
"Alright," stated the darkly-haired woman, shattering the silence that would have probably seemed painfully long to those awaiting her response. "I will hire you, but not without receiving a taste of your current ability. I do not want any milk drinker attempting to put on a serviceable visage in the hopes of getting coin and protection out of me." She could of course tell that he was no weakling, as his body build was a telltale sign, but there was no harm in conjuring a challenge for him anyhow, seeing as he was not wearing armour of any kind. It would be of entertainment to the Queen too - something she definitely felt that she needed after such a long day.
"Sir Arledge! Duel with this man." Brought forward by her command was one of the guards whom had been standing still by the wall, with a straight posture. By his hip was a sword, which he withdrew just as another blade was handed to Lord Ritter.
You can take control of the guard in your reply, since it makes more sense than just passing short replies back and forth, and he is only a random NPC anyway. drest.
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Post by drest on Oct 18, 2015 9:56:35 GMT
Surprised, Arden took the offered sword, giving it a few practice swings to test the balance. Pleasantly, he found it excellent. It was an arming-sword, a one-handed weapon shorter and lighter than he was accustomed to, but it would serve. He briefly considered the Queen's directness; he admired her, but had expected politicking to be more subtle. Perhaps it will come, he told himself. Be thankful for this now.
Sir Arledge, lightly armored in mail under a black-and-gold surcoat, spoke then. "I at least have heard of you, Witch-Lord. You're a killer, they say, but to take a sword from a man like me and keep him standing is a harder task than skewering peasants of the levy. Are you to it?"
Arden cast his cloak aside, lowered his stance, and took a half-step forward to put his blade on a line with Arledge's torso. Arledge's answer, taking his stance but moving his left foot back rather than his right forward to keep himself at a safe distance from Arden, confirmed that he knew what he was doing, and Arden suspected he'd be slower than his foe, but Arden had two inches of height and over one stone of weight over the knight. The pair raised their blades to their lips in salute, and began.
Their blades clashed scarcely; most of the fight was foot-work. In battle they would have been more physical, but dueling was another beast, a patient beast of half-steps and feints and sparse, snarling clashes. The pair circled slowly, Arden pressing forward with his feet but attacking little as he sized up his foe. Sure enough, Arledge was damned fast, and had quick reactions – if he saw that a strike had been anticipated, he would withdraw it just after Arden moved to parry, so Arden would waste the move and leave himself open to a second blow.
If Arden's eyes had no magic in them, he'd have easily been too slow to recover. Even as it was he lost in dodging these as much ground as he gained in his advances.
On the instances when he did have a chance to parry and riposte, however, he saw Arledge's undoing: always eager to counter-attack, the knight put too much weight into his parries. Here would be Arden's chance to use his size.
After near five minutes of quiet tension, interspersed with the clashing and grunting of an earnest attack, the chance came. Arden beat back a blow, the pair made a few steps to gain ground, and Arledge backed up a sliver more than was wise.
At last Arden was on him. Extra space meant Arden could lunge, and he did, sweeping his blade before him in a tight arc aimed at the knight's sword-arm. Arledge parried, putting his blade under Arden's in hopes of thrusting, but Arden pivoted, knocking his own right hip – with most of his considerable weight behind it – into his foe's. Arledge had, as expected, overcommitted his shoulders to the parry and sacrificed the stability of his stance. He fell.
In an instant he was on his knees, Arden's sword at his throat and his wrist pinned in a grip like a vice. "Your blade please, Sir Knight?"
Arledge swore, and released his sword.
Arden's left hand darted from the knight's wrist to the grip of the sword, and he stepped back, swishing Arledge's blade through the air. "Not at all harder than killing," he quipped with a rare wit he would congratulate himself over for months to come. "You've simply to ask nicely."
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Post by Ruin on Oct 18, 2015 13:15:26 GMT
Rhoslyn had thrown one of her better guards at Ritter, so it did come as mild surprise that he succeeded in beating Arledge. But, that was exactly what she had wanted, in a sense. Perhaps he would make a good servant after all.
With a flurry of expensive silk, the cloaked men of the royal guard moved forward to help Arledge to his feet and lead him back to his former position, while the Queen dealt with the Witch Lord.
"Well played, Lord Ritter," she stated, humour swirling within the depths of her muted blue irises. Rhoslyn admired a sharp tongue, which he had just displayed moments before. "I think you will certainly be suitable to work under me, however I may need to test your skill some more in the future," commented the Queen, her cheek finding its former position against her fist once more.
"As for your first task - I have been hearing rumours of a group of maybe thirty bandits making camp within a cave outside of Whiteridge. It seems they are preparing for a raid. Your job is to gather a group of the best fighters you can find, and eradicate these scoundrels."
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Post by drest on Oct 18, 2015 14:07:59 GMT
Arden bowed. "Glad to have pleased Your Grace."
A guardsman came to collect the swords; he returned the one he'd used in the fight, but walked Arledge's sword back to him; a sword taken by hand was best returned by the same hand. "A good fight," he told the knight. "I've no grudge, 'lest you do."
Returning his thoughts to the Queen, he turned back to her and answered. "I'm happy to take any test of skill, though I can't promise I'll pass them all – you should know, as well, that I've a trifling of magic. I'm no proper mage, but my mother was. I can cast thunder-bolts if I'm in a rage, hence 'Witch-Lord.' As for bandits..." His voice trailed off, and he closed his eyes to think.
Without opening his eyes, he said, "I've a couple questions. Are they fighting men or rabble?" He opened them, and fixed the slate-grey gaze on her. "And, am I to accept surrender?"
[Because Arden may or may not have offended Arledge, I didn't want to write his reaction – his fight I was bound to win being a PC who specialized in fighting but there's nothing to say I'm guaranteed to make friends so I wanted to leave that to you.]
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Post by Ruin on Oct 19, 2015 17:45:08 GMT
"Judging by reports, there seems to be a mixture of both, with more rabble than order," answered the Queen. "Apparently the majority are men with past convictions, such as thievery and some, even rape." The law of the villages was never known to be the best, and convicts often managed to escape trials and penalties. Other times, bribing guards worked too. However, these kinds of people almost always chose to band together, which they clearly did not realise resulted in them being far more easy to track.
"You are to accept no surrender, for they do not deserve such mercy, and I doubt they would be of any use to me either. If your reputation of witch lord is as noteworthy as they say, you should not have any problems." The raven-haired woman did not want to hear any doubts he may have had. Doubts only resulted in falters and mistakes.
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Post by drest on Oct 20, 2015 5:59:33 GMT
"I give no mercy to rapists," answered Arden. As he always did when the subject was mentioned, he recalled his grandfather's words on the matter. 'If that daughter of mine hadn't been a witch and a slut,' the former Lord Ritter had said, 'I'd not have to go through the trouble of bringing you up, piss-ant.' From what Arden knew the rapist, a knight of Ponterion, had died peacefully of old age, never punished.
Delighted with having been granted a task that suited him, Arden bowed. "If it please you, I shall take fifteen good men, or twenty mediocre. Your will shall be done."
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Post by Ruin on Oct 21, 2015 15:51:02 GMT
The Queen gave a nod of her head, which seemed to signify her acknowledgement and gratitude. It did not bother her what kinds of men carried out the task. She simply wanted the problem dealt with before it could result in claims that she and King Griffith were not protecting their people appropriately.
"Then you are excused, Lord Ritter," Rhoslyn replied with a slight wave of her left hand in the direction of the door. All that were left to deal with were a handful of people waiting behind him for their chance to voice their concerns, and she wished to be done with them as quick as possible.
We can move on to Arden meeting Jukka now and hiring him as one of the men, if you'd like. We'll most likely have to roleplay the rest of the men together as a general group when it comes to it.
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